


Second Chances

by Aelia_D



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Sex, Smut, old flame, the one that got away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-12 07:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11156811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia_D/pseuds/Aelia_D
Summary: Sometimes moving to a small town puts you in touch with someone you never expected to see again.(Tags subject to change as story continues.)





	1. Now

The most embarrassing day in Shane’s life starts bright and early, just after dawn. 

He has an earlier start than normal at JojaMart. Morris had said something about inventory. He doesn’t know, and right now, he doesn’t  _ care _ . His alarm is blaring somewhere in the vicinity of his pants, which are a rumpled heap beside the bed. His shirt is draped over the TV. His head throbs with every heartbeat, his stomach churns. He contemplates calling out. 

It takes a few moments for him to realize that he is not alone in his bed.  _ Shit _ , he thinks. He doesn’t remember anything of the night before. The warm body half draped over him is concerning. This hasn’t happened since he moved to Pelican Town last year. There’s a lot less opportunity for anonymous, drunken sex in a town this small.

The person is warm, their head pillowed on his shoulder, one hand up under his shirt, pressed against his ribs. His arm is wrapped around them, resting on one soft hip, clad in what feels like flannel. It would be nice if it wasn’t so concerning. He doesn’t know who is in his bed, and he’s afraid to find out. The possibilities flash through his mind, on a scale of bad to terrible. There is literally nobody in this town he would be comfortable waking up next to, for a variety of reasons. 

Not that he doesn’t indulge the occasional fantasy, but there’s a difference between thinking fondly of Alex’s athleticism as it might translate to the bedroom and  _ actually  _ hooking up with someone. 

He makes himself glance down at the sleeping person, and is surprised to find that it isn’t one of the villagers. Vibrant magenta hair, golden-brown skin, and… green eyes? They’re  _ awake _ . He recoils, nearly flinging himself out of the bed in his haste to get away from the person. He lands on the floor in an undignified heap, then scoots further away to put more space between them. 

“Are you alright?” They ask, flailing around in the blankets for a moment to get clear of the tangle Shane left them in. The voice seems… familiar? He can’t place it, but he feels like he knows it. A head pops up over the edge of the bed, concern is written across their features.

_ Shit. Shit. Shit.  _

He doesn’t know what the  _ fuck _ has happened, or hasn’t happened. At least he doesn’t seem to have corrupted one of the locals. They’re all so young, and he’s so...  well, he’s so  _ everything _ that he’s best off alone. He runs his hands through his hair, and takes a deep breath. 

“Shit.” He manages to say. He’s trying to take stock of the situation, but he still isn’t entirely awake, and this is so far from the norm that he just  _ can’t _ . His hungover, sleep-addled brain does manage to process that his bedmate is  _ gorgeous _ . Way out of his league. That, more than the fact that he is still in boxers, and they’re wearing some kind of flannel pajama, confirms for him that they definitely didn’t hook up. 

“Shane?” The stranger looks at him, their head cocked to the side. His heart stutters in his chest. He  _ knows _ this face. She smiles, tentatively. Familiar dimples appear in her cheeks. “I didn’t know you were here. I just moved to town. I inherited Moo Cow Farm, just North of here.” 

He stares, dumbfounded. Chris is here. Chris is in his bed.  _ Shit _ . She’s older. Somehow more beautiful, not that he would have thought it was possible. Her hair is different, but it’s still her. His eyes lock on the scar bisecting her eyebrow, and he swallows hard.

Shane never expected to see her again, not after she told him to fuck off. He doesn’t know what to say to her. Doesn’t know if he should start with an apology or pretend that he doesn’t remember their final conversation. He can’t breathe. His room is too small. She is too close. He needs to get out.

“I’ve gotta go.” He chokes out, grabbing clothes off the floor and hurrying to the bathroom. He’s not running away, it’s just that the ground isn’t opening up and swallowing him fast enough. She  _ lives _ here now?! As if his life isn't complicated enough, he's apparently slept with the newest member of the community. He's almost like some sort of fucked up welcoming committee.

He goes through the motions, but his head is in it even less than usual. He showers to wash away the stench of last night's beer, and sniff-checks yesterday's work shirt. It's not really fresh enough, but to get a cleaner shirt he'd need to go back into his room, and he's not ready to face that yet. He manages to sneak out of the house and off the ranch. 

His shift at JojaMart crawls by. At least he doesn't have to think too hard about much. Though, if he had a difficult job, it would be to easier to focus on  _ work  _ instead of dissecting every moment of this morning’s interaction and thinking of the million different ways he could have made less of an ass of himself.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so drunk, he thinks with a twinge of guilt, he would have remembered that Marnie had mentioned having a guest. Though he hadn’t expected to have someone bunking in  _ his  _ room of all places; his room is filthy, he doesn’t remember the last time he changed the sheets, and he hadn’t had enough warning to ensure that the more embarrassing items were tucked away. There’s a million and a half reasons he wouldn’t want someone in his room, not the least of which is the exact situation he woke up in this morning.

Shane had thought a lot about seeing Chris again. About a chance to apologize and find a way to move forward, but he never actually expected the opportunity. Now that there seems to be one, he’s not sure he has the courage. The cowardly part of him contemplates hiding in the chicken coop and never coming out again, but he knows that’s not possible. 

When his shift finally ends, he heads to the Saloon like always. Maybe he can drink  _ this  _ shame away, if not any of the others. But when he walks through the door,  _ she  _ is there. Chris is sitting at the bar in  _ his _ spot.Gus and Emily have clearly been waiting for his arrival with some anticipation because both of them immediately stop what they are doing. Gus at least pretends he’s wiping down the bar, Emily just stares. 

A million clever and no-so-clever remarks flitter through his mind. He says none of them. 

“Hey,” Chris smiles at him, less tentative than that morning. He freezes up, staring at the flash of white teeth, the rosy lips, the curly magenta hair pulled up into a side ponytail. A minty green tank top hangs loose, and when Chris shifts he sees just a hint of cleavage that makes his mind stutter to a stop. 

Her smile grows as she passes him a beer he hasn’t noticed until now.

“I don’t know you. Why are you talking to me?” He grumbles, sliding onto the seat next to Chris. He tells himself that it’s just the beer that has him settling in. He can’t let perfectly good alcohol go to waste. Especially not on a day like today.

“I think you know me  _ plenty _ ,” she says with a smirk. 

Shane doesn’t have a response for that. Nothing he could say in public, anyway. He knows her well. Or, he  _ knew  _ her well once. He still knows more about her than he wants to right now. He wishes things had turned out differently, that they’d never grown apart, and he simultaneously wishes that she hadn’t come back into his life. He’s not ready for this. Honestly, he’s not sure he ever will be. 

He takes a long drink of the beer, nearly draining the mug. Gus, saint that he is, sets a fresh one down beside the first. 

“Why are you talking to me? I’m not looking to make friends, you know,” He stares at the rings on the bar made by condensation from the cold glasses. He doesn’t want to look at her. Chris was always good at seeing through his bullshit, and he’s afraid he might be lying, even to himself. 

“My cabin isn’t habitable yet, I had to order some essentials. It should all arrive tomorrow, so I’ll be staying at Marnie’s tonight.” Chris doesn’t say it’s the second night, or that she’ll be sleeping in his bed, but he’s not a _complete_ idiot. He decides he’ll be sleeping in the barn tonight.

“Fine.” He finishes his first beer, and contemplates the second. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

It’s a lie. It matters a lot to him. He desperately wants to backtrack to where they were before. It would be so much better than this. 

Chris is silent, and he can’t bring himself to look at her. Instead, he chugs the second pint, places money on the bar, and leaves without looking back. He’ll get a twelve pack from JojaMart and make himself scarce for a while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking for a Beta ~ email aeliawrites@gmail.com
> 
> Story will integrate Headcanons from ImagineStardew.tumblr.com


	2. Now

It’s quiet on the dock, and it’s just far enough away from everyone that he can almost pretend he’s completely alone. Shane comes here a lot to sit and think. He opens a beer, drinks it fast, and then flops back. He crosses his arms behind his head, and rests on the old, scarred wood, staring up at the sky. It’s clear tonight, and he can see the vast emptiness of the void, with a sprinkling of stars. He feels so small.

It used to be comforting.

Now it just makes him sad.

Once, he had dreams.He’s nearly thirty.He’s stuck in a dead-end job in a town that’s so small that if you blink, you’ll miss it. He’s accomplished nothing in his life, and now one of the people he hurt the most is back.  Shane feels like a failure.

He’d give up on it all if it weren’t for Jas. But she’s depending on him. Sort of.

On his worst days, he feels like maybe she’d be better off if he were out of the picture. Marnie adores Jas, and would take great care of her. She’s practically raising her already. But Jas has already dealt with more loss in her few short years than anyone should have to deal with. He can’t be the reason she loses someone else.

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and bites back the scream welling in his chest.

When the urge passes, he sits up, and chugs another beer. And another. Until the pack is gone and his head isn’t so full anymore. It’s fuzzy and distant and he can almost pretend it’s not full of doubt and disappointment. For the first time all day, he manages to relax.

Shane lays back again, and stares at the stars. He lets the chorus of frog-song- still fairly quiet this early in the year, though by midsummer it’ll be cacophonous- wash over him. Moments like this, where his mind is quiet and the world is just loud enough to be distracting are what he craves.

His phone buzzes around midnight. A gentle alarm he sets for himself to make sure he doesn’t spend the whole night on the docks again.

It isn’t easy to get back to his feet. His stomach is churning and his head is spinning. He drank a lot of beer. Way more than normal, and his limbs feel far away. He manages to shove the beer cans back into the box, though when he stands, the world seems to shift on its axis. Shane nearly topples into the lake.

But he doesn’t, and he begins his wobbling, meandering course back to the Ranch.

The box of beer goes directly into the recycling bin. Shane doesn’t bring evidence of his late nights back into the house when he doesn’t have to. It’s better for everyone. Marnie doesn’t like it when he drinks inside her house, and this way he feels like he’s respecting her wishes.

Shane stands outside for a few more minutes, watching his breath crystalize in the cool night air and drift away. He’s tired, and drunk, and he’ll regret tonight in the morning, but right now he’s still in that happy place, where his mind is fuzzy and comfortable.

Finally though, the cold seeps through his hoodie, and he knows he needs to go inside. He tries to enter quietly to avoid waking anyone, but he manages to trip coming in the front door. He goes sprawling, and lands on the floor in the entry with a thump. Mercifully, Marnie doesn’t wake, and neither does Jas. He’s almost relieved, but the light in his bedroom clicks on as he pushes himself up off the ground.

“Hey there,” Chris whispers, hurrying over to help him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, swatting her hands away. He manages to wobble into his bedroom, and stands swaying in front of his bed for a moment. He’s not supposed to be here. “Shit. I’m supposed to sleep in the barn.”

Shane rubs his hand over his face, not quite regretting all the beer, but wishing he’d remembered this before he’d come all the way into the house. There are actually blankets and things in the barn already. His stomach twists with something resembling guilt when he remembers they’re there because he’s been too drunk to come inside before. He may be terrible at taking care of himself, but he doesn’t want to be a bad influence on Jas.

“No, Shane,” Chris says. “You’re sleeping in the bed.”

“That’s not right.” He turns, and smiles a little. He’s not sure right now that he deserves to sleep in the bed. “You’re the guest. You get the bed. I’ll uh…” he considers getting out to the barn and bedding down in the hay, but it’s more than he can handle. He runs his hand over his face, and lets out a long sigh. “I’ll sleep on the couch over there.”

He points at the loveseat. Chris looks at it, glances at him, and raises an eyebrow in clear doubt.

“Look, it’s fine. We can share the bed or something.” Chris says, not sounding as sure as she probably wants to. It’s not a large bed. The fact that both of them fit in it the night before is impressive, and was only possible because nearly half her body was on top of him.

It’s an uncomfortable thought. In another world, waking up with her beside him would have been pleasant, but as things stand between them it will never happen again. He wishes- as he has many times in the past- that things had been different.

“No. Chris, just… no.” He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “Sleep in the goddamn bed. I’ll take the couch. Last night was a mistake. It was all a mistake.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He doesn’t know if he’s referring to now, or last night, or five years ago. By the look on her face, neither does Chris. “I’m going to sleep on the couch. It will be fine. I’ll be out of here early tomorrow. You won’t even have to see me.”

“Okay,” Chris says. Her voice is quiet.

Shane can’t look at her. He doesn’t want to see her face. He can’t handle the pity or hurt or anger or whatever he might see there. Instead, he walks on unsteady legs to the linen closet in the hall, and grabs an extra quilt. He stands there for a few moments, catching his breath and trying to get himself under control.

It’s too much. It’s all too much, and those beers that offered him some comforting numbness earlier are the reason he can’t handle the surge of emotions. Seeing Chris has brought a whole lot of his bad choices to the forefront of his mind.

He’s an idiot who makes the same mistakes again and again. Mostly, he remembers bad nights with her. Nights like this one, drinking himself stupid and lashing out. He hurt her more than any person had a right to, and he feels right now like he’s proven that he never learned.

After she left, he tried to get sober.

Look at him now.

He wants to scream. To punch something. To lash out, and express his frustration, his pain, his disappointment. But he doesn’t. He’s afraid to wake up Jas and Marnie. Jas in particular doesn’t need to see him like this. She deserves so much better, but he’s what she’s stuck with.

Shane takes a deep breath, hugs the quilt to himself, and turns to head back into his room.

Chris is in his bed, her vibrant hair only barely visible above where she buried herself under his blankets. She’s curled up, her breathing slow and even with sleep already. It’s a relief that he doesn’t have to face her right now.

Shane toes off his shoes, and wads his sweatshirt up to make a pillow for himself. He contemplates changing into pajamas, or stripping down further, but it will probably just make the morning more awkward. He wraps himself in the quilt, and lays on the couch.

He’s slept here before, after a long night playing video games, and once or twice when he’d drank enough to pass out here instead of his bed. It’s not actually that bad to sleep on. But his mind won’t stop spinning, thoughts keep intruding, and he can’t relax.

It takes a long time for Shane to fall asleep.

 

 _It’s the middle of the night and they’re sitting in a Lenny’s Diner._ _Chris smiles at him from across the table, and his stomach flutters with excitement. Her hair is the same green as her eyes, braided into a crown on top of her head. Her lips are bright pink, shiny. He badly wants to kiss them._

_She reaches over and steals a french fry off his plate. He grabs his spoon and steals some of her ice cream._

_Shane says something, and her eyes widen in shock before her laugh bubbles up. She tries to suppress it, but she still giggles. He says something else, and her laugh grows, becoming something more as she throws her head back and laughs loudly._

_She’s so beautiful it overwhelms him._

 

Morning, as always, comes far too soon. His alarm blares angrily from his pocket. Shane manages to tumble off the couch and onto the floor in his attempt to untangle himself from the quilt and reach his phone. Once he smashes the button on the side to snooze it, he lays there for a minute waiting for the throbbing in his head to subside a bit. He can’t help but stare at the mess beneath the couch.

There’s a couple beer cans, empty and half-crushed. A sealed can of Joja Cola. A lost sock. A dust bunny. A dirty magazine. The last makes him flush, grateful that in his sloppiness he at least kicked it under there, instead of leaving it out. He’d be mortified if Chris found it.

Chris. Shit.

He sits up quickly, but she’s still buried under the covers, snoring softly.

He breathes a sigh of relief, and pushes himself up off the floor. He grabs clean clothes from the pile next to the dresser, sniff-checking to make sure it’s the right pile. Again he’s struck with disgust at what his life has become. Once, he had been the sort of person who actually put their clothes into the dresser. Now he just heaps the laundry into various piles based on how bad it smells.

Shane shakes his head. He can’t do this right now. He doesn’t have time. Wallowing in self-loathing is strictly for after work.

He takes a fast shower, and gets dressed. He chases a couple asprin with a glass of milk and a plate of scrambled eggs. Then he’s off, to another day in _paradise._


	3. Then

**\- 8 years ago -**

 

Chris twists and turns in front of the mirror, double checking herself. Her suit is clean and pressed, the hem of the pants falling neatly to top of her pumps. Her hair is twisted up in a knot at the nape of her neck, the color a boring brown. Her makeup is light, professional looking. 

She’s nervous. Too nervous to spend any more time at home, though she’s got over an hour before her job interview. Her purse is sitting on the table next to the door. She double checks that her wallet is in there, along with essentials- emergency makeup, tooth floss, mouthwash, and so on. Chris packed it all the night before; she believes in being prepared, but checking the contents gives her something to do with her hands, and right now she needs that.  

Her mother works in her home office at the back of the house. She’s on the phone, but manages a smile when she sees her daughter. “Good Luck” she mouths. 

Chris smiles, and blows her mom a kiss before heading out. 

It’s a twenty minute drive from home to what she hopes will be her new job. The JojaMart office building has its own attached parking structure, and she claims an open spot not too far from the entrance. She can see into the lobby from here. It’s very modern, but also bland. Smooth gray marble and glossy white furniture, accented with Joja Blue. It’s not what she imagined, when she was thinking about her dream job, but it’s  _ a  _ job, and right now that’s enough.

According to the clock, there’s still forty-five minutes before her interview. Oh man. She can’t go in yet; she doesn’t want to be that girl who shows up too early and reeks of desperation. Chris leans back and stares at the ceiling of her car, noticing that the fabric is starting to sag, and there are a few stains that she doesn’t actually recall the origin of.

It’s  _ thrilling _ . 

She needs to do something else. Anything else. She’s as prepared as she can be for the interview-- she and her mother went over common interview questions and practiced some answers-- but sitting here in her car will drive her batty. 

Chris knows the area vaguely; it’s not too far from her mother’s office, so she knows there’s a coffee shop within a block or two. It’s this small, locally-owned cafe that does breakfast and lunch, and if she remembers correctly, they’re known for having amazing tarts. 

The idea of a cup of hot coffee and a fruit danish or something has her mouth watering. As long as she’s careful not to spill on her nice, clean suit, it would be a great way to pass some time. It’s tempting enough that Chris gives in. She climbs out of her car, grabs her purse, and double checks to make sure nothing that looks valuable is visible.Her car should be fine. 

Signs lead her to the pedestrian exit. The cafe is kitty-corner from the massive gray building she just exited. It’s convenient. And, from here it looks welcoming, warm light spilling from its windows. 

Chris hurries over to the cafe and enters. It’s cute. There’s a variety of seating; tables and chairs, a sofa with a coffee table, a couple wingback chairs near a chess board. Paintings & photos hang on the walls, tagged with sale prices, and the names of local artists. A shelf near the back offers a few books and board games for patrons. 

She likes it. It’s comfortable and charming and she can imagine herself stopping in for a coffee before work, or claiming a small table for lunch.  The music is good, the volume at a level that lets her hear it over the crowd without being distracting. A few people are settled in with drinks in house mugs and books or newspapers in front of them. 

Slowly, she makes her way to the front, and gazes up at the menu mounted on the wall. The offerings are pretty simple; a few teas, a few coffees, some sandwiches and salads. There’s a display case with a few pastries, all of them look amazing. There’s a fruit tart that has the most beautiful strawberries. She decides that she  _ needs  _ to have it. 

“What can I get you today?” The cashier greets her. His smile is lopsided, but seems genuine. Chris blushes and smiles back. 

He’s gorgeous. Broad-shouldered, built in a way that suggests athleticism. His arms are muscular, his sleeves just a little snug, in a way that hints at how gorgeous they must be beneath the thin cotton. His hair is dark, cut a little long, and nearly artfully messy. His nametag says “Shane.” It seems to suit him.

“I’d like a small coffee, lots of room for cream, and a fruit tart, please.” 

“Of course,” he says. “For here or to go?”

“Uh, coffee to go, tart for here?” Is that weird? Chris doesn’t know, and he’s so gorgeous it’s making her self conscious. 

“Sure thing.” He turns away to fill a paper cup with coffee. Her eyes drift to his ass, perfect in his dark jeans. With a view like this, it might be worth the drive out here even if she doesn’t get the job. Chris realizes she’s being a creep, and tears her gaze away just in time to avoid getting caught.

He places the coffee on the counter, and grabs her tart, placing it on a small white plate.

“Anything else?” 

She wants to say ‘your number,’ but she doesn’t. Instead she shakes her head and slides a five across the counter with a murmured “keep the change.”

“See you again soon, I hope,” he says as she gathers her things off the counter. Those simple words cause a flutter of excitement in her belly. 

She hopes so, too. 


	4. Now

Pelican Town could fit on a postage stamp. The path between Marnie’s Ranch and Joja Mart takes him through nearly the entire thing. On a good day, Shane manages to nod at the villagers, pretending that he cares. That he  _ can  _ care. On bad days, he shoves his hands as deep into the pockets of his worn hoodie as he can manage, and keeps his eyes firmly on the path in front of him. 

It seems like half the town is up with the sun. It makes it that much harder to get to work without getting sucked into an interaction, though it’s not that he dislikes the villagers. Actually, most of them are good people, genuinely nice, and all that. Really,  _ he  _ is the problem. He just can’t handle people. One would think that would make a town this small ideal for someone like him, but it really doesn’t. They’re too damn friendly. Too damn nosy.

Though, there’s not a lot to do in Pelican Town besides gossip. It’s the main form of entertainment for most of the villagers. He understands it well enough that he doesn’t hold it against anyone.

Besides, he kind of enjoys it sometimes.

He’s got ten minutes before he needs to clock in when he arrives at the store. It’s far too early to head inside, so he hops up and sits on the “Join Us. Thrive.” sign. For a minute, he wishes that he smoked. At least it would give him something to do with his hands. But that’s not his vice. Never has been, actually. 

He remembers trying to smoke once when he was a teenager. Coach had found out, and had nearly kicked his ass. He’d never touched them again. There’s a twinge of nostalgia when he thinks of his time on the gridball team. He’d made Varsity, and had been recruited by a couple mid-tier colleges. 

Then… He’s not going to let himself get into that now. Work is depressing enough without wallowing in the shitty parts of his past. 

“Shane!” Morris says when he finally enters the store. “So nice of you to join us.”   


“My shift doesn’t start for another minute, Morris,” Shane says. He barely manages to avoid rolling his eyes where his boss can see. It’s not that he’s worried about his job. Quite the contrary, actually. Morris is desperate for employees;  _ most  _ people in Pelican Town hate JojaMart. It’s just that Morris  _ excels  _ at giving Shane tasks he’ll hate, and if he feels slighted, he’s much more vengeful. 

Shane fumbles in his pocket for his keycard, then slides it in the register with approximately one second to spare. As soon as the register chimes, indicating his successful clock-in, Morris points at him.

“Deli counter today, Shane.”  Morris says, with that smile Shane hates.

“Sure,” Shane says, keeping his voice bland. Letting Morris see that he’s successfully gotten under his skin has never paid off. 

“And Shane? Stop putting out samples labeled as ‘mystery meats’” Morris is unamused. There’s a strangled noise coming from Sam that suggests he’s trying desperately not to laugh. Shane bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, himself. 

“Sure thing, boss.” Shane says with a mock salute before wandering to the back of the store to handle the deli. 

He can do this. It’s just eight hours of his life he’ll never get back. 

  
  


The Saloon doesn’t appeal to him tonight. Instead, Shane grabs a pack of beer, a small bottle of chocolate milk, some chocolate sandwich cookies, and a box of pizza rolls from work. He stuffs them all into his backpack, and trudges back to the ranch. 

It’s a beautiful evening in Stardew Valley when Shane finally escapes JojaMart. The sky is a rich blue, with the fluffiest white clouds dotting a mostly clear sky. The sun has just begun to tease the horizon, not quite changing the color of the sky yet, but sunset is soon. The air is fresh, and smells of growing green things. 

Shane is reminded why he moved here. For all its flaws, it really is a great town.

The beer tempts him, but he hopes to spend the evening with Jas, and he refuses to be drunk with her. He can keep his shit together for a few hours for her sake. Really he can. Most of the time.

Today, despite its weird start, isn’t a bad day. He doesn’t feel the burning need to drink himself stupid, just the desire to take the edge off with a cold one. 

Right now, he can resist it.

A few people wave to him as he passes by. He’s not disliked, but they don’t like him, exactly, either. He’s Marnie’s nephew. That’s enough for most people to at least offer him basic courtesy, though they  _ also  _ know he’s not very social. He may not have friends here, but at least nobody is actively unfriendly. 

Miss Penny is leaving the ranch as Shane arrives home. He waves at her, and manages a small smile. She does the same. He appreciates everything she does for his niece, but their few interactions have been awkward at best. He knows he reminds her of the worst parts of her mother. Shane understands completely, and gives her her space. 

“Shane!” Jas shouts when she sees him coming around the corner of the paddock. She runs over to him, and takes a flying leap into his arms.  He knows what’s coming, so he braces himself, catching her in a hug and spinning her around. His knee twinges, but it’s nothing too bad; he can ignore it. 

“How was school today, kiddo?” He asks once he sets her down. 

“So good! Miss Penny taught us about dinosaurs!” Jas grins. “Did you bring me chocolate milk?” 

“What? No! I would never bring  _ you  _ chocolate milk. But I happen to have some for me.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out the bottle. He pretends to open it and drink it.

“Shaaaaaaaaaane” Jas groans at him with prepubescent exasperation. “That’s  _ my  _ chocolate milk!”

“Are you sure?” He licks it. “I think it’s mine.” 

“Gross! Shane, you’re so meeeeeeeeeeean!” Jas giggles, even as she whines at him. She knows his game. He knows she knows his game. She knows he knows she knows-- His cycle of stupid thoughts is interrupted by Jas making puppy-dog eyes. “Didn’t you bring one for your  _ favorite _ niece?” 

“You’re my  _ only _ niece,” Shane says, handing her the bottle of chocolate milk. 

“So? That means I  _ have  _ to be your favorite.” 

“Also my least-favorite.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Shane knows he’s said the wrong thing. Jas’s eyes go wide, this time not with mock emotion, but with real hurt. The joke he intended it to be has flown right over her eight-year-old head. He’s so bad with kids. 

“I’m your least favorite?” Tears threaten to fall. Her lower lip wobbles. 

Shane immediately drops to one knee to be on eye-level with her. Gods help him, he’s got to fix this fast, or she’ll be crying in earnest.   


“No, sweetheart. I was trying to make a joke.” Her lower lip steadies, so he continues. “I’m your favorite uncle, but I’m also your  _ only  _ uncle. Which means I’m also your least-favorite uncle. Especially right now.” 

“You are?” He can practically see the cogs turning in her brain. “It wasn’t very funny.” 

“No,” he says with a grimace. She’s not wrong, but even after almost a year of living with Jas, he still forgets how good kids are at cutting right to the heart of things. “I’m not usually very funny.”

“That’s okay! I still like you.” She says, brightening again. He’s forgiven, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off his chest. It’s weird to realize just how much her feelings matter. He’s a selfish jerk, except when it comes to Jas. “Can we play videogames now?”

“Sure, pumpkin. Let’s go play video games.” He catches her hand in his, and they head into the house. 

He knows how this is going to go. They’re going to play that pigeon-dating-game that Jas loves so much. She’s going to make him actually control the game, but she’ll tell him what to do. She’ll eat cookies, and get crumbs all over herself, and somehow also him. They’ll pause for dinner, and when they come back, she’ll have him play one of his other games-- maybe Harvest Sun, or Understory or something-- until she falls asleep on the couch. 

It’s how it always goes. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

A few hours later, everything is as he expected. He hits a save point in Understory, and quits. Jas is curled up under a quilt on the couch beside him. There are crumbs from the chocolate cookies around her mouth. Shane knows he should wake her to brush her teeth, but… fuck it. They don’t get a lot of nights like this. He scoops her up, and tucks her into bed with Mister Bun, her stuffed animal. 

Shane is climbing into bed when he realizes that he still hasn’t had a beer tonight, and he’s not craving it. He’s… today’s not a bad day. He feels the darkness there, on the periphery of his brain, and he knows that he’s not magically better or anything, but damn this is a nice feeling. It’s been so long since he’s felt okay. 

He falls back, letting his head hit the pillow with a thud. A light scent wafts up around him. His bed smells like Chris. Shane doesn’t know what to do. He wants to bury his face in the pillows and breathe it in deep, and he wants to fling all the bedding away and pretend she’s never been there. He’s so conflicted.

Fuck. 

He was having such a good day. 

It teases him with what he doesn’t have. What he can’t have. Because he fucked up. Because he  _ is  _ fucked up, and he feels himself sinking deeper into the pit of failure by the day. He’s too far from okay to even really consider anything, but his bed smells like her and he wants to indulge in the fantasy. 

Today was a good day. Today  _ is  _ a good day, he tells himself. He’s not drunk. He spent quality time with his niece. He was feeling okay. This isn’t the end of it. It’s not.  It can’t be.

_ Fuck it.  _

Tomorrow he can be disgusted with himself, but tonight he’s going to let himself breathe in her scent and pretend things between them went differently. For tonight, he’ll let himself dream.


End file.
